The Flag of the People
by girlthatwrites
Summary: What if Éponine had survived? And Enjolras was the only one who knew? *Based on the movie


Éponine ran up the stairs, her skirts flowing around her, nearly tripping her as the threadbare yet rough material wrapped around her legs. She launched herself into Marius's room once she had reached the landing, glad to find that he was gone, most likely out making some promotional, inspirational speech. Éponine quickly crossed the room to the windowsill where she knew Marius kept his personal, prized possessions, looking back over her shoulder a second time to make sure she had not been followed by anyone suspicious of her. It would not be the first time such a thing had happened, and she doubted it was cease to happen in the future because of her impoverished status and reputation as a street mongrel.

Once the young girl was certain she was alone, she felt along the edge of the windowsill until she came to the slightly widened gap in the seal. She hooked her thin finger under it, pulling up with all the strength in her bony arms. She coughed slightly when dust rose up into her nostrils but otherwise remained silent, staring down at her own secret hiding place, just above where Marius had his. Éponine pulled out the little bit of money she had acquired and saved over her lifetime, counting it out for the hundredth time in her life. She reminded herself that this was for when times were better, after the revolution. When there was equality for all, Éponine would be just as equal as the women with ghostly powdered faces and blood red lips, and she would not be declined a job or rights because she could not afford to wear fine clothes and wear a funeral upon her face.

After Éponine placed the money back in the open windowsill, she pulled out her dearest trinket, a necklace with a large pendant and long chain, made of solid gold. The fine piece of jewelry was both her greatest possession and her greatest regret, for she had taken it from the bag of a rich boarder at her parents' inn when she was thirteen years old. By that point, Éponine had come to dislike and distrust her parents more than anyone in the world, favoring the independence of the streets over their con-artist lessons in their disgusting inn, even at a young age. They lost the inn a few years later to a fire, but Éponine refused to stay with them after that, claiming she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions and knew maybe even more than them about surviving. She was not just living on the street, no, she was a member of a revolution. She did not live just to survive; she lived with the hope of seeing a better day for herself, one of equality.

"Éponine?"

Éponine turned so quickly she fell onto her bottom, her back smacking against the wall behind her as she stared wide-eyed at Enjolras standing in the doorway with a cold look in his eyes. She prayed her body blocked the windowsill from view, but she knew just as well as anyone that her frail figure could not possibly complete such a feat. Éponine twirled her finger to wrap the gold chain of the necklace around it, pressing the pendant against her palm so tightly she could feel the imprint forming in her flesh.

"Enjolras," she said evenly, though she felt extremely small and insignificant, talking to him from a seat on the floor while his large figure stood just a few feet away. "I thought you would be out."

"Why? Been planning to break into Marius's chambers for a while, have you?" Enjolras asked, his tone matching the infuriated look in his eyes. "And to think I thought you would make a good revolutionary, even for a woman. I thought you would set an example for the others, fretting over their precious furniture and linens. I never should have let you near my men."

"Enjolras, this isn't Marius's!" Éponine cried in haste, rising to her feet as she spoke in order to reveal the open windowsill behind her. "Marius keeps his things in the wall, down there. I only have a couple possessions of my own, and I keep them in a broken space in the windowsill."

"I do not believe-"

"I have money."

"Money is of no use to me; I cannot be bribed to keep my mouth closed."

"I do not intend to bribe you, you proud fool. Look!" Éponine reached down, pulling the money out of the cavity in the sill and holding it out for Enjolras to see. "It is _my_ money, money that I have earned over the years. When this revolution is over, when we win, I will use this money to rent a room and become an apprentice to a seamstress."

"Anyone can come up with a plan for money in a few seconds."

"This!" Éponine raised her other hand, displaying the necklace and pendant. "What use does Marius have for this? He will not wear it, and neither would he sell such a thing. It is mine. I will not lie to you; I stole it off of a woman when I was younger. But it is _mine_, and I am no thief of my friends."

"You may say any words you please, but that does not convince me-"

Anger quickly rose up in Éponine for a moment before she released it in an indignant shout. "Do not speak to me of words, Enjolras! Oh, the great Enjolras, with his loyal followers and thirst for revolution, he knows words so well. But, what are in words you do not act on, hm? You have never even touched a gun. Ha! Talking to me as if _I'm_ the one with empty promises, while you gallop around spitting fire from your mouth and clutching to half-finished flags. We're waiting for the revolution, Enjolras, when will it come? Are the people not angry enough, yet?"

"We are waiting for the right moment," Enjolras said quietly, appearing extremely sobered by her stinging words. "I wish it had not taken so long. The time will come very soon, I can feel it." Enjolras betrayed himself for the first time in ages, letting a small smile form on his lips. "As you have just displayed, the people are extremely angry."

"Because I _am_ the people. This money proves that. This is _mine_; I worked hard for it, because I believe there will be a better, more equal life for the people, come the end of this revolution. And when that equality is reached, I will don this necklace and walk through the streets without fear of being conned, assaulted, ridiculed, or accused of thievery. I may be a street urchin, a silly girl, hungry and lonely, but I am the hopeful people, and it is up to you to guide us, so I beg you not to judge the people so harshly and let them keep their secrets."

Enjolras nodded, understanding what she was asking of him. "The people shall receive what they ask for. I suggest you keep the necklace close to you, though. Marius is not as much as an idiot as many conceive him to be, and he will find that hiding spot one day. One less item means less time spent explaining to him."

"I will remove it when I deem it necessary." Éponine turned, storing her things back inside the empty space before pressing the broken wood back into its proper place so that it appeared to be undisturbed. She was surprised to find, upon turning back around, that Enjolras was still standing there. "Is there something you need?"

"I actually came here in the first place because I saw you come in and Madame Regloux told me to ask you to visit her. She needs help completing the flag, I suppose."

"Oh, well, thank you…" Éponine walked past Enjolras in the doorway, making short eye contact with him as she passed before beginning to descend the stairs.

"Éponine?" Enjolras asked again, taking a step toward the stairs as well, his tone serious. "What I said earlier, about-"

"I know you didn't mean it," Éponine responded. "Trust me, if I could shoot a gun, I would be right alongside you boys in that barricade when it happens. Unfortunately, I cannot, so I will help in whatever ways I can."

"I must say I'm impressed. I thought you were always sticking around and helping because of your feelings for Marius."

Éponine considered for a moment whether or not to decline Enjolras's accurate assumption, but she decided nearly instantaneously that it was not worth the effort. "I knew poverty before I knew Marius. I loved a fantasy of a better life before I loved Marius."

"Is it true what they say about Madame Regloux's sewing? That when a strand of her hair falls out, she just adds it to the string and continues with the hair in whatever she is making?"

"Yes, and she teaches all her helpers to do the same." Éponine had only had this occur once or twice while she had been helping the woman sew the red flag that would be the symbol of the revolution on the barricade.

"So, you will truly be the symbol of the people, then, won't you? I feel almost ashamed I never realized a woman could play as important a part in a revolution as you are."

"Do not feel ashamed for that. Feel ashamed you never realized women. They suffer more than men. Last time I checked, men were not expected to give up their dignity and soul in order to earn enough money to keep their piteous husband's or father's drinking habits well equipped even in these times."

"You never-"

"You may have felt hunger in your life, but you do not know what it is to starve as I have, Enjolras."

With that, Éponine continued down the staircase and ran across the street to meet Madame Regloux in her small apartment, prepared to help with the completion of the flag. Immediately upon sitting down, a strand of her hair fell into her lap, but she simply threaded it through the needle with the red thread and continued sewing. She and the flag were intertwined; she and the flag were the people.

* * *

Éponine was still soaking wet and shivering, even after removing the clothes that had been drenched by the rain and replacing them with dry articles of men's clothing she had found here, there, and everywhere. She nimbly crawled toward the windowsill to remove the heavy necklace from its hiding spot, draping it carefully around her neck so the heavy pendant fell low on her chest. She considered taking the money with her but thought it best to keep it where it was. If she did not survive this, it would be of no use to her, and someone else would find this eventually. _Even if no one else, _Éponine thought as she began to wrap gauze around her chest to make it appear flat, _Enjolras at least knows where the money was._

* * *

Éponine first noticed the strange feeling in her neck, the feeling of her head flopping along on a neck that seemed nearly useless. A few seconds later, and she was keenly aware of the ache in her chest, barely able to breathe. She was suffocating, her breath hardly coming out; she was dying. She began to breathe faster, sucking in air as much as she could, flailing her arms about for something to hold onto as she realized she was blind, in an unknown place.

"Goddamnit!"

Éponine's eyes flew open just as she sailed toward the floor, the landing on her side causing the ache in her chest to somehow increase by a tenfold. She cried out but a hand was quickly placed over her lips to muffle the sound of her scream. That word…lips…in the painfully slow process of recollection that actually happens far quicker than we give it credit, Éponine remembered the gun, the shot, the fall, the pain, Marius, his arms, his comforting words, his kiss, the darkness…

With a slowness unnatural to Éponine (she dared not move faster for fear that every bone in her chest may break or her heart burst), she began to lift her head and look around the room. Dust clung to every inch of floor and wall, hanging in the air, just waiting to tickle the nose and poison the lungs. There were a few rows of tables that had not been added to the barricade with chairs stacked up on them. Éponine suddenly felt panicked as she realized that there was furniture in front of her that had not been added to the revolutionary cause. How far was she from the barricade? Where was she? Why was she there? Who had brought her? What were their intentions? She knew her parents had not known of her plan to fight on the barricade, though she doubted they would have cared had they known.

"You were dead."

Éponine suddenly remembered that there had been a voice that had spoken earlier, cursing as she had fallen to the floor. She turned her head as fast as possible to face the sound of the speaker. She watched Enjolras look down at her, crouching down next to her once he realized that she was in no condition to get up of her own accord. He looked over her with a mix of pity and disbelief.

"It is impossible," he half-whispered, staring at the spot on the front of her shirt where there was a bloodstain. "You pulled the barrel to your chest. The bullet entered your heart. You died in Marius's arms."

"I did," Éponine said in a raspy tone, more as an agreement than a question. "I remember…it…it hurt so much…the rain stung…"

Marius continued to look at the bloodstain, his brow beginning to furrow with each second more as he examined it. "You were shot directly in the heart…there should have been more blood…"

Éponine found the strength to roll her eyes before looking off to the side. "My, Enjolras, you should have been a doctor."

Enjolras placed his hands on both sides of Éponine's face, turning it to face him as he spoke to her in a gravely serious voice. "No, Éponine, _there should be more blood_."

Éponine stared up at Enjolras, for a moment nearly forgetting he had just spoken as she stared at his clenched jaw with some feeling of…what was that feeling? The one that stirred her empty stomach in a way that was neither unpleasant nor always welcomed and made her warm in damp, thin clothes? Why was she now dying to be rid of her extra layers when she was soaked straight through to the gauze wrapped around her chest…and beneath that gauze was the pendant.

"Enjolras!" Éponine breathed as she stretched up a hand to clutch to his shoulder. "The gold, it was thick. The center was not gold, I remember the woman speaking of it. She said something about a metal stronger than gold. She said it was like the metal of the Titans. Could it be that the cloth…all these layers…could they slow down a bullet enough to be stopped by a pendant?"

"Maybe if it was a shotty bullet…" Enjolras mused. "Then luck would just be on your side…"

Without shame or reluctance, Éponine unbuttoned her already torn shirt and the tattered bits of gauze on her chest. Enjolras, still retaining the manners of a gentleman, turned away to give her some privacy, though she was careful not to uncover too much. Éponine stared down at the disfigured pendant where it lay on her chest, slightly imprinted in the skin, with the bullet crushed into the very center. She let out a sigh of near relief that caused Enjolras to turn his attention back to her, a blush quickly rushing to his usually stoic face when he realized she was not covered again. Éponine ignored his modest as she slowly raised the pendant from her chest where it had caused a long cut that was the reason for the bleeding. The cut was scabbed over now with dried blood all around it, and suddenly she became very aware of the fact that Enjolras could see it. She felt very self-conscious as he stared at her, dirty, sweaty, bloody, weak, and lost in all things.

"What do I do now?" she asked him, her voice breaking as she folded the tattered gauze over her chest again and buttoned the shirt again. "I can't go back…I've already said goodbye. The dead can't return."

"I'll bring you your money as soon as I can," Enjolras began to say, but Éponine cut him off by raising a shaking hand slightly.

"You have a war to fight, Enjolras, you can't go off bringing me money to…wherever this is."

"We're a few blocks from the barricade, near a graveyard. We came through a secret tunnel way. The only other way out is through the sewers, however no one knows of this tunnel way for a reason. We don't want people running from the revolution."

Éponine now moved her hand so it was resting on Enjolras's cheek, an action she felt she herself had not commanded her hand to do so much as her body all on its own. "Which is why you cannot leave the others alone to fight at the barricade; you must fight alongside them. You must fight for the people."

"You are the people, Éponine."

"Don't soften on us now." She ran a thumb along his skin, still feeling some of the dampness of old drops of rain that had yet to part from him. "They need you to lead them. I died in vain; do not let me live in it, as well. When you have won, bring me my money back here. By then, I shall be rested and will take care of myself until the revolution is over and there is equality. I will look out the window for the flag. And when I see the red with the strands of the seamstress's hair giving it life in the wind, then I will know it is my time to travel on. I will move on; I will not return for Marius or to envy Cosette or to take revenge on my parents. I must not return back here, Enjolras."

"I understand," Enjolras managed to say, but Éponine was already beginning to fade and his words were growing more and more distant. Her last speech had worn her out, causing weakness to overcome her entire body. "But once the revolution is over, all of France will be equal. Wherever you go there shall be equality, and I am perfectly content with living anywhere in France so long as there is equality."

"What do you…mean…?"

"I will make sure all of France is revolutionized, for you, and for me. You are Hetalia, and it is my duty to stand by Hetalia and give my life for it. I will make sure everyone sees the flag you built with the fibers of your own being; I will make sure these men know what they are dying for in this war. I promise you that."

"They are not dying for me. They think I am already dead myself."

"But I know you aren't."

Éponine suddenly became very aware of the fact that she was about to be left in this very strange place, so far away from people she knew. Her fear fueled her strength for speech. "No, Enjolras, you must take me back to the barricade. I refuse to stay here. I'll hide in the pub. Please, help me back."

Éponine reached up to place a hand on Enjolras's shoulder to help pull herself up, silencing his objections with glares. "I am a grown woman, I can do what I want," she said, her voice coming out sharply as the ache in all her bones was renewed. She let out a small sigh as she realized that most of the pain was stiffness from lack of movement, and walking a bit would be of great help. Enjolras put an arm tentatively around Éponine's waist as they began to walk, slowly at first, and then picking up speed once they were out on the nearly completely abandoned street. Enjolras led them down a few alleys until they were in front of an old sewer drain. A few feet in there was a decently sized tunnel cut out, just big enough for the two of them to squeeze through without too much difficulty. After a while, Éponine asked if they could stop for a moment to rest before she moved her arm from around Enjolras's shoulders to lean against the side of the tunnel.

"Take your time," Enjolras told her. "We're making good time. I'll be back in time to take my spot on the barricade. I think they suspected it would take me longer to carry you to the graveyard."

"I haven't had a decent meal in twelve years," Éponine said with a smirk, her voice raspy from the lack of water that caused her throat to feel like sandpaper. "I doubt I was much of a burden."

Enjolras brushed some dirt off his sleeve before raising his head to look at Éponine. "Who would ever consider you a burden?"

"My parents. Marius. The world. You."

Enjolras slammed the side of the tunnel angrily and turned back to Éponine with a look of fury that bordered on pain. "Marius! Marius! Marius! Do you think of nothing else? The man only looked at you because he thought you were dying and took pity on you! He is in love with another! He should not be given as much attention as you pay him!"

"I will choose to pay my attentions to whom I please, if that would so be allowed by you."

"Do not spit your sarcasm at me, Éponine. You know what it feels like to watch the one you care about yearn for another."

Éponine stared at him, her eyes wide in her thin face. "Enjolras…I never knew…"

Enjolras stared at her with a look of equal shock, breathing heavily. "Nor did I; until I thought it was too late."

"Why…" She was speechless, nearly unable to comprehend the situation at hand.

Enjolras stared at Éponine for a few seconds before a small, wry smile appeared. "Because you, Éponine, are the people."

Éponine opened her mouth to say something, but instead a moan came out as an intense hunger pain overcame her. Enjolras rushed forward to catch her before she crumbled to the ground, shoving a dry crust of bread toward her hands. She grabbed it greedily and ate it with little dignity, her stomach still growling slightly but not nearly as painful as it had been before the bread crust. Enjolras helped Éponine to stand yet again and led her out of the tunnel to a narrow pathway with tall buildings on either side. From the appearance of the path and the buildings, no one had been around for at least a couple of days. Éponine began to take a step forward, but Enjolras stopped her and started to lead her toward a door.

"You will stay here," Enjolras said as I pushed open the door to a small, one room apartment. He helped Éponine to lie down, ignoring her protests and claims to being perfectly fine. "When we win, I'll come find you."

"Then win fast," Éponine said, hoping her voice sounded stronger to Enjolras than it did to her. "I may get hungry again."

Enjolras looked around the room intently. "They seem to have left in a hurry. They may have let food. For now, sleep. No one will find you here until this is over. The fighting will not come near here."

Éponine reached up a hand to hold Enjolras's as she looked up at him. "Be careful."

Enjolras frowned grimly for a moment before leaning down, surprising Éponine with a soft kiss on her parched and cracked lips. "Good-bye, Éponine."

"Good-bye, Enjolras. I'll see you when this is over."

Éponine watched Enjolras walk out the door and listened as his footsteps receded down the pathway until all she heard was silence. She slowly rolled over on the bed, pulling the thin blanket around her body before finally falling asleep.

* * *

"Girl! Girl! Girl, wake up!"

Éponine started awake at the sound of someone calling and shaking her, adrenaline pumping through her veins. When she realized it was Madame Regloux the adrenaline wore off and she remembered the pain she was in. She gave out a cry before Madame Regloux released her with a look of surprise. In a heartbeat, Madame Regloux had rushed over to a pale by a doorway and brought it back to the bedside, dipping the hem of her shawl in the water and patting Éponine's forehead. The young girl took a few breaths, stretching her arms and legs a bit to get rid of the stiffness but not daring to arch her back too much or sit up too quickly for fear of the pain in her chest.

"We thought you had died," Madame Regloux said, her voice soft. "Last we saw, Enjolras was carrying you off to the cemetery to bury you."

"Enjolras…" Éponine breathed. "The barricade? Did…we…did we win?"

"You need water, dear." Madame Regloux looked around, but, finding no cups present, motioned for Éponine to drink it with her hands.

Éponine obeyed, but she only took a few drinks before looking back up at Madame Regloux. Her throat was less dry now and the words came out much better. "But the boys? Did we win?"

Madame Regloux looked down at her feet with sad eyes, and she did not need words to convey the answer. "We just finished washing most of the blood off the streets. I came down hear looking for more pales and brushes for tomorrow's work, but then I looked in this room and saw you."

Éponine went to speak but her words were stuck in her throat, like a lump just trying to get out with no success. Finally she cleared her throat and stood up, pushing away the old woman's hand as it reached out toward her. Without a word, Éponine walked out of the room and into the street. She ignored the pain in her chest and joints as she moved so quickly, heading in the direction of the barricade. As she got closer to where the barricade was, she saw more blood in the cracks of the cobblestone, and soon she was encountering dead bodies of men she once knew strewn every which way. She rushed forward when the barricade came into view, not seeing Enjolras anywhere insight. She turned her head left and right to find him, but all there was, was a flash of red in the corner of her eyes.

Slowly, Éponine turned to face the corpse of the man who was to lead the revolution, who was to lead them all to equality. He was going to make her equal with the ghost women. Now, here he was, upside down with that Goddamn flag clutched in his fist is if it was his most prized possession. The flag…the flag she was a part of, the flag she helped make, the flag that represented _her_. He died for that flag.

Éponine ripped the flag from Enjolras's stiff, cold hand before wrapping it up in a bundle, knowing it may be of use later. She went up to Marius's room, lifted the windowsill, and pulled out the money she had saved and tucked it away in a pocket safely. It was not until Éponine was leaving the room that she even thought to consider whether Marius had died. She had not seen his body on the barricade, but she knew from her trip up to his old room that there were many killed inside the houses, most likely trying to run or get more weapons. Éponine glanced back at the room one final time before walking out to the barricade, continuing straight past Enjolras without a second glance. She knew if she stopped, she may begin to cry and never stop, or something much, much worse. For a few moments, he had been her world, and she had been the cause he fought for. The cause he died for.

Éponine used her life's savings to get her to Marseille, where she sold the golden chain of the necklace that saved her. She was able to buy a half-way decent dress and soon found a job working as a seamstress's apprentice, where she worked for food and lodgings. The seamstress was a kind old lady, one who never had any children but always wanted them, and her kind ways were wasted on Éponine, a girl of few words now and a perpetually stoic face.

In a perfect world, a young gentleman of fine upbringing would have come into the popular seamstress's shop to get his new suit adjusted and his eyes would have fallen on the now well-fed Éponine as they had never fallen on any woman before. Then he would sweep her off her feet, make her more open, happy, and full of life and vigor. He would propose to her, offer her a life of luxury with few worries or cares and the opportunity to never work or beg again. When her deceptive parents came to visit after hearing of her newly acquired riches, they would even be welcomed and settled in a nice home with all their wishes granted, so as the in-laws may be comfortable.

However, the world Éponine lived in was far from perfect. Many attractive, even very rich, young suitors came to court her, but she refused all. She lived for three hundred days in the house of the seamstress, three hundred long, cold, dark days. She still had the flag, red as blood, tucked away under her bed on the second floor. On the day that marked the year anniversary of the fall of the barricade, she made her way carefully up the stairs so as not to wake the seamstress who was dozing by the fire. Éponine stood on a chair to tie the red flag around the rafter near the window, and then tied it in a knot around her neck. She stepped onto the windowsill from the chair, looking out across the gray, cloudy sky with her head held high.

Éponine stepped off the windowsill, and the flag of the people flew one last time.


End file.
